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I’m sure I’m not the only one who remembers Natalie Portman’s debut innings.

It was raw and risky, but it was a hell of a statement. No one could have expected someone that young to put in an effort anywhere near that good. She was light on her feet, energetic, level headed and delivered something amazing.

It’s not to say that her career went on to be great straight away.

Only a few years after that amazing start she was out of the game, it wasn’t that the selectors who didn’t want her, she just didn’t feel, wanted to get her head right and knew she was good enough to make it back. Her last innings before she left was an awesome effort in a team win, but she left at the right time.

When she came back, not everyone was happy. She’d now been elevated to a superstar, and some felt that she shouldn’t have as she’d been out of the game for a while. Even then, she’d performed well. However, it was clear that she felt limited by the game plan that George Lucas gave to her.

From there on in she cemented herself as a sublime creator of an innings, whether she was being gritty on a dodgy wicket, swinging hard in a cameo, taking charge and kicking ass, lighting up the pace with a carefree knock or getting her head down and putting in a long skilful innings.

I’m not saying she hasn’t played some shockers, but overall she has shown class and skill and made a great crowd pleasing career.

Now that high class and highly entertaining career has now been capped off with a world cup final hundred. Not many players do that.

She has now climbed to the top of the tree, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

Natalie, you deserved this. You’re a superstar. And I get so much pleasure from watching you. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.

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You have your youth as long as you can hold onto it, unless you are one of those types who were born 32 years old. For the rest of us we cling onto objects and icons to stay young. The two that always stood out for me were Ricky Ponting and Natalie Portman.

Ponting started his test career when I was 16. He was the young pup way before there was even a pup.

I followed his career through dodgy LBWs at the WACA, scratchy knocks at number three, not wearing a helmet to face Curtly, a fight with a fence at Sydney, a fight with someone else in Sydney, a dropping from the team, that terrible goatee, getting wickets with gentle outswing, the face of Milk in Tasmania, the centuries coming in, vice captaincy, bhajji, runs, world cup finals, grumpiness, backing his team, captaincy, bad captaincy, over rate problems, losing an ashes, winning more world cups, more runs, more bad captaincy, losing faith in spin, losing another ashes, losing the number one spot, winning a pointless trophy, losing cricket matches to every one, and losing the Ashes again. I saw the best and worst of him.

Ponting and I have a few similarities, leaving school early, flirting with the idea of becoming groundsmen, quick to anger, hugely defensive when criticized and painfully working class upbringings. Even with this we’re probably nothing alike, and I doubt we’d ever be friends, but there is some sort of link there from me watching him for half my life.

As a batsman he was one of the best I have seen, or will ever see. When he was in control of his game, he was in control of the test match. He didn’t bat for time or records, he batted for his team, and there are few champion batsmen like that.

As a captain he got better as his team got worse. When he started he was a confused man with a lot of help from others, then he learnt how to trust himself and became a modern test captain with little flair, trust in his bowlers or need to attack.

On the last day of the boxing day test he walked off the ground to the foo fighters singing “there goes my hero”. At the time the song was being played for the English team as they sprinkled their way around the ground to bathe in the glory that Ponting has not seen for a long time.

The song wasn’t for Ponting, he probably didn’t even here it being played, but for so many fans of Australian cricket you couldn’t have picked a better song. Ponting will always have something that Michael Clarke, or any of the next generations of captains, won’t have. Aussie cricket fans felt like he was one of them. Even if they didn’t like what he said or did, they had that same bond with Ponting that I felt. For so many they felt an instant connection with them that never left.

When he played the worst shot I’ve seen from him the day before, I felt sick, not bullshit sick, but really ill. My stomach tore up, I got a headache, and wished I was somewhere else. I thought that was the last time I’d see him bat in a test match.

For years I have abused him for his captaincy, boy’s club, misuse of bowlers, and the bubble he lives in. I’ve called him the hairy armed troll, doubted that he wanted to win as much as he said he did, and got angry with so much of what he had to say. As a captain, I could never get completely behind him, so I wouldn’t miss that.

It was as a batsman I’d miss him. From the first ball I saw him face I’ve always treasured watching him bat. His batting is Australia to me. Not Australian cricket, but all of Australia. You couldn’t see Ponting bat and think he was from anywhere else. His batting says more about Australia than the national anthem or Australia day. It is my Australia.

There will be those who pick Trumper, Ponsford, Harvey, Bradman, Border or Waugh, but for better or worse, Ponting is mine. We picked each other. He was my Australia, the best and worst of it. The Australia I love and despise.

At about the same time Ponting did a dirty drag on, Natalie Portman’s pregnancy was tweeted around the globe.

Portman and Ponting really came into my life at about the same time. In many ways I wanted to be with one and wanted to be the other. Those days are long gone.

Portman’s pregnancy didn’t really affect me at all. Ponting’s bad shot and exit from the G hurt me. This was my ground, and I felt like a part of me was leaving it for the last time.

Ponting might be back in test cricket, he could even play again at the G a few more times. He is someone who I’d never write off, but the best of him is gone. I felt older when he went out than I ever have in my life. The Ponting I grew up with doesn’t exist.

The ICC has its test rankings involving numbers and nerds. Not Interested. So I came up with my own. They mean nothing, but neither do the ICCs and mine took less time. They also aren’t numbered for a reason, because that would be stupid. You can date the bottom girl on this list (actually make that second bottom) and have a great time, and perhaps have a shit time with the second lady.

Natalie Portman –

There is no outstanding test side at the moment, so no one gets the Portman from me.

Kate Winslet – India

Capable of great things, clever, classy and hot. But how many really cool films has Winslet been in? Has the potential to be the perfect partner, but would it kill her to be a curvy sexy ninja in a Rodriguez flick? Best of the bunch at the moment, but still has improvement in her.

Suicide girls – South Africa

They are hot, edgy and look great in photo shoots. When you are seeing a midnight showing of Donnie Darko they are the ideal partner, but leave them up to their own good and, well, they aren’t called the suicide girls for nothing. Do you want to spend your time hiding the razors?

Cute girl on the train – Australia

It seems like a great idea, but what do you know about the cute girl on the train. Sure, she likes Palahniuk, is wearing a cwb t-shirt and seems to be listening to Coltrane, but she could be nuts. Cuteness and good taste in popular culture are important, but for every hip thing about her, there will be something you don’t know about, like how she breeds rats to kill them while you have sex with her. She could turn out great, but she could be bi-polar.

Ellen Page – Sri Lanka

Has raw natural cuteness and talent. Yet is still a little odd looking. Not in a bad way, but from certain angles you question yourself. Your main concern is her never-ending journey to be the coolest person in the room, we get it Ellen, just stop being a wanker for 5 minutes and be in an adult movie.

Plain girl in the office – England

Easy to overlook, but could be the one. Obviously not as attractive as movie stars or with the hipster taste of the cute girl on the train, but suits you better than most. Can you really afford to shun her just because she wears cardigans? Although it must be said, she is not a good cook.

Brody Dalle – West Indies

Rock and roll. Big highs, but scary lows. There is something that draws you in, you’re not sure what, and it could be illegal, but she is supercool and has access to free drugs and booze. Might only keep you around for a short time, but it could be fun. Until the come down.

A chick on roller skates with bright pink hair in pigtails – Pakistan

She looks awesome, but she wears roller skates. That isn’t safe, what if she is rolling up to you and she falls headfirst onto your lap. That wouldn’t be good. The wow factor wouldn’t be any good when you have been hit in the nuts, and if you are hurt bad and you need medical supplies, the girl with the roller skates cannot be trusted. Practically roller skates are always going to end in tears.

Joan Cusack – New Zealand

Not conventionally attractive that is true, but funny, and who would try harder. The laughs will get you through. Sure she has a relative way more better looking and richer, but he is a dude. Could be a keeper, because if you stay with Joan you’d have funny intelligent chirpy moderately successful children, although watch out for twins.

Your mate’s teen sister – Bangladesh

Dude, she isn’t even legal. Look away. But check back in three or four years, just in case.

The Ashes degraded itself this year by allowing two useless teams to play in it. The World Twenty20 was so boring, India never turned up for it. Australia took on South Africa for the world No. 1 Test spot; 12 people turned up to watch. And no one remembers how Deccan won the IPL.

That is because all these tournaments and series were just warm-ups for the one tournament that stands above the rest and spits down on them in arrogant contempt.

I personally haven’t had so much anticipation for a single event since I found out Natalie Portman was going to appear naked in Hotel Chevalier.

There are children who refuse to sleep, adults who are not participating in society, and animals that are staring longingly at the TV just waiting for this behemoth of an event to start.

I don’t even need to say the name of the cricket event I am talking about, you already know, you are counting down the minutes, nay seconds, until it starts.

The players are preparing themselves as we speak. They want to be in pristine mental, physical and existential condition come the start of the Johnny Cash of cricket tournaments (the only cricket tournament that matters): the ICC Champions Trophy.

The ICC only runs one event with the word “champion” in it. The World Cup might have some gravitas to it, but World means that any old country with a cricket kit can enter; Namibia played in it. The ICC Champions Trophy is way more elite as only the best teams will be there, plus New Zealand.

A tournament of champions playing the most important format of world cricket, 50 overs, with the cricket fans hoping their little cricket lovers’ hearts out that their rag-tag team of potential champions can lift the trophy high and prove to one and all that they are the true masters of world cricket, champions of the game, if you will.

Players have trouble getting themselves up for other tournaments. I overheard some players recently saying, “Oh no, we are at Lord’s for a Test match, again. How I wish we were playing an ICC Champions Trophy match in East London.”

Hopefully the ICC will see the error of their ways and scrap all other cricket tournaments and just schedule a weekly ICC Champions trophy.

Then they just need to sit back and rake in the fat cash that is coming their way, as China, America and Sweden will want to get involved in what is the best sporting event in the history of mankind.

Remember the ICC Champions Trophy is not a cricket tournament: it is cricket. Everything else is a parody.

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As I walked the streets of London I saw the faces of the children, they were tear stained, drained of colour, and lacking all hope. Something had happened.

The more I looked around, the more I realised something was horribly wrong.

Birds flying into each other, rats ignoring open garbage, homeless people refusing to ask for change. Flags were at half-mast, women sat on the steps in front of their grubby looking buildings in a state of shock, and the men, the men, they looked like they no will to live left in them, they were mere empty shells moving around and bumping into other empty shells.

It was as if the country of England was in a state of mourning.

I thought to myself, what could tear a country up like this, it must be a huge tragedy, maybe Susan Boyle had auto erotically asphyxiated herself in a hotel room, or perhaps Kate Winslet has started talking with an American accent.

I found my way to an off-licence, jumped over the apocalyptic mess that was their alcohol section and picked up a paper.

My worst fear had arrived. It was a twist of fate that could befit a Shakespearean dramedy, Australia’s most reliable player, Shane Watson, is injured.

Nooooooooooooooooo, not Shane, anyone but him, take my gril, take my mother, take Natalie Portman, but not Shane.

Suddenly I understood England’s despair. Here is a country that had geared itself up for one thing this summer.

Watching Shane Watson.

And here we are, two weeks before the first game, and he is injured.

Not in a mighty battle while trying to slay their home town heroes, but just a strain at training. A meek end for such a great young warrior.

They might as well call the Ashes off. No one here is in the mood for it now. How could they be? Would you watch Escape from New York without Kurt Russell, offcourse not.